Diary of a Maple Tree Licker
by Proserine
Summary: Matthew Williams, the country of Canada, has various problems. So he gets a diary. Just hand in your man-card already Mattie...
1. August 27, 2011

This isn't my first story. I have another account, where I write various fanfiction, mostly for the Hetalia realm. I want to escape from the shadow that is my other account, so I have made this account, and this will be my pet story. It was inspired by the Maximum Ride fanfic 'Diary of a Lovesick Mutant' by the fabulous Phoenix Fanatic.

I dont know what it's about, per say.

I know that it will be the diary equivalent of a crack-fic with a plotline.

I'll say it only one time: Reviews are loved, and I love replying to them.

Disclaimer: I dont own Hetalia.

Thanks for clicking on this story.

~Ursula

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><p><strong>August 27, 2011<strong>

Dear Diary,

It is with shame that I begin writing in you today. But my life is rife with shame, and I know who to blame...

Oh my god, was that an accidental rhyme? I just might make a poet of myself yet. I write in you with shame because I am a man, and I am shamefully handing in my man card today. Men don't write in diaries. Diaries are for giggling girls in love, not me. Speaking of me, I believe that an introduction is in order.

Diary, my name is Matthew Williams. No, I am not dating Lady Gaga. I am a proud Canadian (make jokes about it, and you will find yourself being chucked into the fireplace Diary), a nice person, and the world's most invisible country to date.

Yes, you heard (read? or since I write in you, thought? Gah, so confusing) that right Diary. I am a country. The best country in the world actually.

I am the proud country of Canada (ask where that is, and you will be introduced to Mr. Fireplace), home of the Beavers, Geese, Bacon, Pancakes, Syrup, Hockey, and pretty much anything decent this world has to offer.

I'm pretty much the epitome of awesome. I just wish everybody else could see that... or see me. You see Diary, I have a lot of problems.

A LOT of problems. Care for me to list them for you? Well, you'll have to listen to me anyway, as you have no choice in the matter...

I'm sorry for that Diary, that was a bit uncalled for wasnt it? I promise i'll try not to do it again. As an apology gift, here's an emoticon:

:D

So, back to my problems.

Problem #1:

My.

Stupid.

Idiotic.

Whorish.

Douchebag.

Sorry.

Excuse.

For.

A.

Twin.

Brother.

Yep, Alfred nobody-knows-what-the-'F'-stands-for Jones, the United States of America, in all of his 'BAMFness' and glory. Home of obesity, pigheadedness, and some of the best college education in the world, which doesnt make sense, because he has a suckish public schooling system. Also home to McDonalds (source of obesity), Hollywood, and douchebags.

I hate to love him. I mean, I have to love him, he IS my brother after all. Despite all of the terrible things we've done to each other, I still love him, in a twisted way.

No Diary, I dont like him THAT way. You're such a perv, I swear...

So, my douchebag of a brother is a problem within himself (God Diary! Why are you such a perv!), and also the heart of some of my other problems. Why? Because he's a douchebag Diary, that's why.

And dont even try and lecture me about having a better reason, because If you met him, you would SO hate him at first sight, so give me credit for not killing him yet. Even if I've tried already.

On to Problem #2!

Problem #2: Alfred's many lovers (AKA, the reason he's a whore.)

Have I ever mentioned how many failed relationships my brother has been in? (I take it I havent, because this is my first diary entry) I mean, is 'relationships' even the word for it? Sometimes its just sex! Like all the hate-sex he had with Russia during the Cold War!

Why is this a problem for me?

I look a lot like Alfred. Like, to the point of mixing us up. Granted, there are a few differences, but they're very discreet differences...

So his lovers often flirt with me. And I have to shoot them down. Then they, thinking that I'm Alfred, get mad at him, and he, in turn, gets mad at me.

This all leads back to Problem #3!

Problem #3: I am the most invisible person ever.

Ask people to find Canada on a map and half of them wont even know where I _AM_. I mean, I'm the second largest land mass on earth, that's gotta count for something, right! I should totally become more visible.

Problem #4: I am hopelessly in love with Gilbert Bielschmidt.

Okay, I know this is sorta cliche Diary, I mean, is this all you diaries listen to? People moaning about unrequited love and such?

That's gotta suck Diary.

But you cant do anything about it~!

What exactly do I love about Gil anyway?

Everything.

I love how he breaks into my house at three in the morning.

I love how, when he wants to wake me up, he does so with a glass of cold water to the face.

I love how he forces me to make pancakes at the most random times.

I love how he can never find my bacon stash.

I love our arguments over which drink is better, Beer or Whiskey.

I love his eyes, which looks like rubies.

I love his hair, which looks like snow.

I love how he hides a serious side of himself.

I love how he's more human then the rest of us.

I love how he remembers me.

In short, I love everything about him.

The problem is... he doesnt know that.

This is where you come in diary: I am giving myself exactly one year to confess my undying love to Gil, and to solve my problems. You will be my silent advisor and also my chronicle of failure. I apologize in advance for the mental scarring you will be put through...

I think I'll make a handy timetable to refer to... It's the end of August right now, so I'll start with September.

**September:** Plot ways to kill Alfred so that when I get together with Gilbert, he doesn't strangle him. Also, think about confessing love and read some of Japan's manga for advice.

**October:** Make pancakes and cut and wash Kumachacha's fur. Ask Gilbert over for 'help', then while he isnt suspecting it, soak him in water. Proceed to admire him in a wet T-shirt.

**November:** Hit self on head until coming up with a good idea for confessing love or killing Alfred. If all else fails, make pancakes.

**December:** Invite people to stay over for the holidays. Hope people come, and when they dont, invite Gil over for a pity party.

**January:** Get Gilbert drunk on New Years and hope he lets some of his secrets spill.

**February:** Send Gilbert a valentine anonymously.

**March:** Visit Netherlands and steal some weed and tulips from him.

**April:** Enlist Japan's ninja skills to break into Gilbert's house when he isnt home.

**May:** Ask France for advice.

**June:** Attempt suicide.

**July:** Make sure people remember my birthday and not just Al's. Ask Gil for a 'birthday kiss' and say it's Canadian tradition.

**August:** If all goes well, and I am not dead, I will confess my undying, everlasting, awesome love.

If this all goes according to plan, and I havent perished by the end of it, hopefully, by this date next year, Gilbert Bielschmidt, former country of Prussia and currently the eastern part of Germany (to his brother's dismay) will be MINE!

I hope he's ready to have his vital regions invaded.

Wish me luck Diary.

-Matthew Williams


	2. September 2, 2011

Second chapter already? Cheers! So, I went to Paris this week and... I think I'm in love with a city.

This chapter was fun to write, but there isnt a lot of epic going on. But, after the fourth chapter, things are gonna be speeded up.

**Review of the week: **_"This can only end well." _-Joy2theworlddannyphantom

**Comment of the week: **

_"I like Febreeze."_

_"I'm a Glade-ist"_

_"Gesundheit."_

_"I'm pretty sure I didnt sneeze..."_

_"Sure sounded like it." - _A conversation between a friend and I.

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><p><strong>September 2, 2011<strong>

Dear Diary,

This week, Im Yong Soo (South Korea, if you dont know Diary), Alfred(my stupid idiotic douchebag whorish sorry excuse for a twin brother), and Gilbert (love of my life and beyond) invaded my house.

The damn hosers... Well, before I tell you what they (the damn douchbags...) did, I might as well get a few things out of the way first.

Well Diary, it's September now, and according to my **Calender of Doom©**, I have to plot ways to kill Alfred, think about confessing my love, and consult some of Japan's manga for help.

Seeing as I need to buy a new camera for the high-def death of Alfred and I havent done so yet, and confessing my love right NOW is out of the question, I decided to 'consult' Japan's manga.

So, I decided to do as the Google Gods do.

I googled.

So, I came up with something called 'Mangareader', and I clicked on it. A site appeared with a lot of colors and flashing words and ads. I clicked on the first one, something called 'Kaichou Wa Maid-Sama!'.

It was... weird. More then weird, the plotline was so ludicrous it made me laugh. But somehow, I didnt think that it would help with my...predicament, so I went back to the main page.

There was a drop down menu, with different genres and categories on them, so I scrolled over it. There were a lot of words I didnt understand, as a newcomer to manga, like 'Yuri' and 'Shoujo' and 'Shounen'. I randomly clicked the one labelled 'Hentai'.

There was another menu of titles, and I clicked on the first one, which had an unintelligible name.

At the moment the first page loaded, four things happened.

My screen froze as I tried to close it.

I had a sudden need for brain bleach.

Kumajujube peed on the floor.

Yong Soo broke into my room.

Diary...

I think I know what 'Hentai' is now.

This is a rather awkward silence diary.

So, lets go to the part where Yong Soo broke into my room.

Like the pervert he is, he caught sight of my screen first.

What I didnt expect was the prudish reaction.

"HOLY SHIT MATTHEW THOSE PEOPLE ARE NAKED DA-ZE~!"

"I KNOW!" I said, freaking out.

He reached over and flipped the lid of my laptop shut while shielding his eyes.

He threw me a withering gaze as I sat there, eyes wide.

"I dont think I'll ever look at Japan the same way again." I whispered, shocked and mentally scarred.

He looked at me pityingly.

"Matthew... I'm willing to forget this. Just..."

"Just what?"

"From now on, read Manhwa. Manga gives me heebie-jeebies."

And then he left, not even telling me what he came there for.

Now, that brings me to when Alfred invaded. It was on Wednesday, and on Wednesdays, Alfred gets bored.

I dont know WHY he's so specific about when he's bored, but at least it gives me time to prepare.

But this Wednesday was SO DAMN ANNOYING that I'm pretty sure he'll end up dead as soon as I get a new camera with more megapixels.

Why Diary?

Because he insisted on speaking to me using only Lady Gaga lyrics, thats why.

Now, I know I set Justin Bieber on him, but I swear, he started it with Miley Cyrus! No matter what he says about Celine Dion!

So, he broke into my freezer and started eating my Ice Cream.

The following conversation went as such:

"Hey Alfred... why are you robbing me of all my Ice Cream? Also, why didn't you answer my phone call this morning?"

"I dont really find it very cute or sexy~ When you call or incessantly t-t-text me~!"

"ALFRED!"

"Dont call my name, dont call my name~!"

"Just dont forget to go to the meeting tomorrow."

"I dont care about tomoro-o-o-o~!"

And then he left, taking my ice cream with him.

Douchebag...

Now, onto the awesome one.

So, just yesterday, Gilbert was in my house.

Well, I should say last night, but I know you would take that the wrong way Diary (you perv).

I was sleeping peacefully, Kumafuji using my face as a pillow, when suddenly I heard a clattering noise from downstairs.

Kumajanna crawled off of my face and I grabbed my hockey stick from my closet as I snuck downstairs, all stealthy-like.

I heard louder rustling noises from the kitchen, some one cursing, and smelt the vague smell of something burningo I walked into the kitchen, hockey stick in hand, to find it covered in flour and egg shells. Gilbert was at the sink, trying to scrape a smoldering pancake off of my pan with a half melted plastic spatula.

This is what we call a face-palm moment diary.

He looked at me, frozen in the doorway, in all my pajama and hockey-stick glory, and smiled.

_Merde, I think my heart just melted a bit._

He dumped the pan into the sink and threw the spatula onto the counter. Gilbert threw his arm over my shoulders and whined, "Mattieeeee~ Make me some pancakes!"

I looked at him, but avoided looking him in the eye. "Knowing you, you used all the flour".

He went down on bended knee, fluttering his eyelashes. "PLEASE! I'll make it worth your while!"

_Hot damn..._

"I'll wash your bear-dog! I'll forgive the pancakes for originating in Russia! I'll stop trying to find your bacon!"

_Screw that, I'll make you mine someday..._

"PLEASE!"

I sighed, running my hand through my hair, then set it down on the counter, straight into some gooey, raw, egg remains.

"Shit!" I turned towards Gilbert. "Dude, I'd make you some pancakes, but you used up the last of my flour."

He winked at me. "Well, then I'll just have to stay over until you get some, no?"

I think I DIED Diary.

He's here right now.

Sleeping on my couch downstairs.

I think I'm squealing on the inside.

How am I ever going to confess my love to this guy?

I mean, it's not like I can just go up to him and say 'I love you'!

It has to be something big.

But... I think the reason I'm holding back is...

What if he doesn't love me back?

Well, I need to go to sleep Diary.

Sorry for waking you up from your nap.

I'll go hide you behind my huge dictionary now.

-Matthew Williams.


	3. September 4, 2011

LOLBRBFTWBBQYGRSDNF. You guys are awesome. I also meant to post this yesterday, but I was lazy~ This is one of those rare chapters that doesn't come in on Friday.

Treegone: If I do, it'll probably be after this one is finished. Also, sorry for the confusion, but the order the troublemakers and when they made trouble were not in chronological order, just in 'Canada doesn't care' order :D

**Review of the week:** _"Hot damn, can't I get a sexy country ransacking my kitchen at 1 in the morning and begging me to make him pasta? *COUGHCOUGHItalyCOUGHCOUGH*" _

**Comment of the week: **_"A while ago I stole and hid my brothers lollipops for reasons I won't mention and he got mad at me and told me he was gonna do the same today. For 3 days I have been looking for my jammies._" -My friend's post on Facebook

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><p><strong>September 4th, 2011<strong>

Dear Diary,

AGH!

GAH!

AGH!

DAMMIT!

MAPLE!

MERDE!

SHIT.

SHIT.

SHIT.

FML.

DAMMIT.

The above, Diary, is an example of my inner temper tantrum.

Which was brought on by a mixture of sexual repression and Gilbert Bielschmidt.

What? I can get angry at him.

I can get angry at ANYBODY.

Okay. Calm down Williams...

You're probably wondering why I'm ranting unintelligibly Diary.

Or wondering why I'm not writing in you on a Friday, as I usually do. I'm sorry for using you during your vacation Diary, but there's something I REALLY need to tell you about, but first, let me get Kumazizzle off of my head, he's clawing at my scalp and it gives me hat hair.

That's better.

So, I think I'll start from the beginning.

Yesterday. I woke up with Gilbert on top of me (DON'T TAKE THAT THE WRONG WAY DIARY, YOU DAMN PERV!), except, not in the way I wanted (Okay, so this time, I'll admit, I'm the pervert).

He was jumping on my bed.

With me in it.

You know Diary, when you hate somebody so much, and they annoy you SO much, yet you cant help but love them?

I think I feel that way about the whole world.

At least, the part that speaks to me while not mistaking me for Alfred.

Back to the situation.

So, he apparently thought that jumping on me would be a good way to wake me up.

It was six in the morning Diary.

I'm not responsible for my actions.

But _merde_, I dont care if I love him, **_nobody _**wakes Matthew Williams up at six in the morning and lives to see the next morning.

I grabbed my hockey stick (I always sleep with it, and no, not in that way Diary) and hit him with it. He was out cold for an hour Diary. I knocked out the love of my life.

And then, the instant he woke up, he insisted we go to the grocery store for flour.

So I got dressed and got in the car, with Gil riding shotgun (DAMMIT DIARY, get your mind out of the gutter!). I could tell from the instant we got into the car that this was going to be one of the worst days of my life. I have, like, a sensor for that stuff, though usually it goes off when I'm with Alfred.

When we got to the grocery store, I couldn't find a decent parking spot, so I had to squeeze in between two identical, large, red trucks. We got out, and retrieved a stray shopping cart that was lingering in the parking lot, and Gilbert pushed it inside.

"Okay, we need to know what we need to get." I said.

He raised one stark white eyebrow at me, "What do we need other then flour?"

I scowled. "Judging by the mess you made in my kitchen, we might as well restock my fridge."

"Then what will we need?"

_Omigod, he said 'we'! _

Diary, that moment calls for a happy face emoticon: :D

Back to the story~

"Well, we already know we need flour, and it's best to get some eggs too. We'll also need milk, maple syrup, and sugar."

"What else?"

"Meh, lets just get the basics now."

We rolled our cart into the aisle with all the baking supplies in it. There were a few ladies clustered at one end, and some teenagers scattered around. I manouevered around them until I was standing in front of the flour.

That was when Gilbert farted.

It was one of those loud farts, the ones where everyone looks for the direction it came from, and finds it without fail.

Everybody looked at him and he pointed towards me. "That was my friend!" He hollered.

A mother at the end of the aisle glared at me and led her child away.

This is what we call an FML moment diary.

I grabbed my bags of flour and threw them into the shopping cart. If there ever was a time when I wished that I would've been invisible, it would have been then.

A bit disgruntled, I sent Gilbert over to the dairy section, to get some milk and eggs, and also to get him out of my hair for a bit.

How did I fall in love with someone so much like my brother?

I strolled into another aisle to retrieve my beloved maple syrup. After placing that into my cart, I heard screaming coming from the dairy section, and splatting noises as well.

You can probably see where this is going Diary.

But just in case you cant, I'll describe the 'scenario' for you.

I instantly rushed to the dairy section, and found Gilbert, three kids, and the store manager covered in eggs.

Perhaps I should have sent him to get the syrup instead?

Because we got kicked out. And I am now banned from going to that grocery store, according to the manager and his bottlebrush moustache.

I frogmarched Gilbert into the car, and picked up ingredients for pancakes from a gas station we passed.

By the time we got home, I hadn't spoken a single word to Gilbert.

After all, I had the PERFECT punishment.

Now, if only my hair didn't suffer...

But never mind that.

So, I made my pancakes, and drizzled syrup and butter on them, then sat down on the couch.

I didn't give any to Gilbert. He watched silently as I took a bite and chewed slowly.

He got up, circled the living room, then sat down next to me.

"So... hows about you give me some pancakes? I'll make it worth your while~!"

I mused a bit... What would I make him do?

Kiss me, be my slave, cover himself in maple syrup...

Er, well, not that I'm kinky or anything, I just like maple syrup.

"Do something crazy."

He latched onto me, pulling me into a hug.

"Then, I'm a koala and you're my eucalyptus tree!" He then proceeded to chew on my hair.

I cant help but think that this fate could have been avoided if I had a sassy gay friend. You see, Diary, I don't care who you are... Touch my hair, and I will not speak to you for a week.

So, he got kicked out, big deal!

That fate could have also been avoided with a sassy gay friend.

The day would not have been HORRIBLE, per se, if England hadn't decided to drop by and insist I take care of my 'little brother' because of a fire at his place.

Sealand is at my house now.

He's living with me.

FML Diary, FML.

-Matthew Williams


	4. September 10, 2011

Whats up? I love you guys~! So, going back to the UAE tomorrow, so I'm posting this chapter up early. In other news, 9/11 is coming up... does anyone have a 9/11 story? I dont really remember mine, but according to my mom, I, a puny five year old, went to school the next day in a headscarf and gave a speech about 9/11.

Of my own accord.

Which is really shocking, since I have social anxiety and stage fright. But I totally wish I remembered it. If you have your own account of 9/11, leave it in the reviews. It'll be a good place to vent, since I know a lot of people feel strongly about it.

On to regular stuff~

**Review of the week:** _"Matthew, WHAT, WHAT, WHAT ARE YOU DOING? Yeah, something is rotten in Denmark, and it's his PISS POOR ATTITUDE! On the bright side, this is the best your hair's looked in months!"_ - (Twice in a row? Awesome! Keep on keeping on :D)

**Comment of the week:** _"Today, my grandma walked into my room and asked if the thing lying on my nightstand was a computer. I said ''Grandma, that's a clock.'' After staring at me, confused for a few seconds, she then farted, and left my room. FML"_ -An FML post.

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><p><strong>September 10, 2011<strong>

Dear Diary,

Today I found out what a douche bag is.

I think that I am undeniably, irrevocably disgusted.

Oh crap, I sound like Bella Swan, even when discussing- Urgghh.

I am shuddering Diary, SHUDDERING.

I dont think anybody deserves to be called a douche bag now.

Oh, and speaking of douchebags (_Crisse_, I did it again!), Peter is the child equivalent of one. I would smash his head into a wall repeatedly if I wasn't so loving, and caring, and shit.

Yeah, I definitely have issues...

It all began on the first day of Peter being here that I started going batshit insane. Specifically, breakfast time.

Flashback time~!

_"Hey, Matthew, can I have this tiramisu ice-cream for breakfast?" Peter said, brandishing a carton of the delicious stuff that Cuba ships to me by the barrel._

_Trying to be a responsible foster parent to a growing (HA!) thirteen year old (physically) boy, I said, "No, Peter. Now, why dont you sit down and have some delicous sugary just-as-bad-for-you pancakes smothered in maple syrup?"_

What happened next was possibly the most frightening time of my life.

_He stalked over to where I was standing, a glare written on his face. He then kicked upwards between my legs in a very swift motion, pausing abruptly right before he could hit the family jewels. _

_"Now listen to me you friggin Mountie. This can go down either way: You give me my ice cream and you dont get hurt. If you dont... well, lets just say I'm made out of steel."_

_I nodded my head, scared out of my wits. _

_He smiled and lowered his leg. "Good. I'm glad we came to an understanding._

I think this kid has me whipped now. I'm afraid that if I dont do what he says, he'll sneak up on me while I'm sleeping and chop off my balls in the dead of night.

Thats not all diary, it turns out this kid swears like a sailor too.

Actually, thats not that much of a surprise... What is a surprise is that he gets up at five in the morning.

TO GO JOGGING.

I refuse to believe that a puny sea fort is more militaristic then me, but sadly, I think this is true. Well, half true. I think he only does it because he keeps muttering about invading England and 'kicking his scrawny ass, yup!'.

Thank god he doesn't have an army, or we would all by royally screwed.

So, after the ice cream event with Peter, the week has been roughly uneventful, unless you count Tuesday.

Ah, Tuesday...

Well, Gilbert came over. Because, after I snap and kick him out ( It's happened before), he waits for a few days for me to cool down, then invades my house again.

Honestly, I'm not complaining. He's pretty damn awesome, but every time he gets close to me, and I think about my love confession deadline on my **Calender of Doom©, **I get a bit more freaked out.

So freaked out that I start trying to find calming ways to, well, calm down. So far, the only thing thats come up in my mind is slaughtering babies.

I am a terrible person.

Oh, speaking of terrible things, remind me to avoid Alfred on the eleventh, Diary.

He gets... strange on the eleventh.

The above is known as an understatement Diary.

Here is a list of things Al does on September Eleventh, Diary.

**List of Things Al Does on 9/11**

**Start crying when he wakes up.**

**Become incredibly paranoid and suspicious of people that otherwise, he would trust his life to.**

**Call Iraq, then hang up abruptly when he anwsers. (I think this stems from guilt, mostly.)**

**Cry some more, then call England and put on a 'Hero Face'**

**Wake up the next day, not remembering a thing. **

Usually, I watch him on 9/11, to make sure he doesn't do anything crazy, but this year, its the tenth anniversary...

Who knows what he could do to me, with his heightened sense of paranoia?

That sounded rally selfish, but please dont think badly of me Diary!

Oh, and if you remember when I started talking to you today, then you will recall that I mentioned a certain Bella Swan.

Now, I dont know a thing about the Twilight series, but one thing is for sure: If Edward can get a girl, so can I.

Er, guy.

I meant guy.

Well Diary, I'm sleepy now, and I have to prep for a meeting and press conference next week tomorrow morning, so I'll go to sleep and slip you underneath my pillow.

Sleep well, oh Saint of Books.

-Matthew Williams


End file.
